


input

by thalassashells



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Nonbinary Character, Other, Robot Sex, nb pascal ! nb pascal ! WE LIVE IN A POST GENDER SOCIALIST MACHINE UTOPIA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 07:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15019634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalassashells/pseuds/thalassashells
Summary: in·put-noun1. what is put in, taken in, or operated on by any process or system.2. a place where, or a device through which, energy or information enters a system.





	input

**Author's Note:**

> pascal the pussyslayer

A2 hooks her fingers into the crevice where Pascal’s shoulder swivels, plucking so gently at the wires that its hardly visible, but you only need a twinge to send a shock of sensation through an electric body. They shiver and grasp tighter against her hip.

“Okay?” is all A2 mutters against the side of their head, where YoHRa units would have auditory processors. Pascal’s are lower, but they hear her all the same and welcome the deep rumble of her voice against their chassis.

“Yes,” Pascal says with a nod, accidentally bumping A2 in the nose with their chin, “Ah! I’m sorry!”

She shakes her head to brush away their concern, lining shockingly sloppy kisses up the cables in their neck, bold imitations of things they’d watched in old video archives and read about in tattered books.

Her hands slide gracefully down their sides, picking open a latch on their back with the expert precision of someone used to dismantling. She'd used them to build this time instead, installing a painstakingly reprogrammed YoHRa chip that let them register physical sensory input more effectively than simply 'pain' and 'not pain'. Pascal had asked to test it out. A2 offered this.

They get merely a moment to contemplate what may come of this before she plunges her hand deep within the knot of wires inside, tangled among their most inner parts like she was picking through a dense thicket. Their vision is overcome with static and warmth and something else they had never felt before that must be pleasure. Quickly they begin to categorize, pleasure is triangles across your vision, pleasure is the circuits in your servos sparking so fiercely and suddenly that they glow-

A2 twitches her hand again and strokes Pascal's core, the treasure at the heart of the thicket pulsing red and hot and bursting against her fingertips in flashes of white spark like it wanted to engulf her. 

“Still?” She asks again, her voice muddied by the ringing in their head.  
  
Pascal takes a few moments for their systems to calm down and try to store the sensory data. They register pleasure as the inexplicable absence and opposite of pain.   
  
“Have to write this down,” they say, garbled. With the lack of an answer A2’s hand goes still inside them and their whole system comes alive in protest, searching for the place she had been a moment ago, aching and frantic from the sudden lack of input.

“Is that a yes or a no?” She insists.

“Please,” they say, internal mechanisms whirring, brushing up against her hand, “please, yes. More data. More...”

A2 pulls back to look into their eyes, her own heavy lidded and flickering as she snakes her other hand inside the rim of the open panel on their back.

Pascal wills the rhythmic ticking of the meter in their chest to go quiet, to not betray their need so openly.

The barest hint of a smile crosses A2’s face, and she holds them as they fall apart in her arms.


End file.
